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Anxious to Get to Our Favorite Place to Shoot
Heroin
by Carls McDonalds Jr.
Citation:   Carls McDonalds Jr.. "Anxious to Get to Our Favorite Place to Shoot: An Experience with Heroin (exp104601)". Erowid.org. Sep 24, 2022. erowid.org/exp/104601

 
DOSE:
  IV Heroin
    smoked Tobacco - Cigarettes

BODY WEIGHT: 150 lb


A Heroin Story

I don't want to wake up. I feel myself rising to consciousness, and even in my dreams I know I'll wake up sick. Sure enough, in a sudden burst I wake up. I'm freezing and soaked in sweat, my blankets and sheets are wet, and it feels like my stomach is going to explode.

I roll over, light a cigarette and frantically check my phone to see if J called. Its 630 pm, he should be home by now. 2 Missed calls, 6 minutes ago. I call him back as fast as possible, gagging on the smoke.

'Hello?!' He answers.

'Yo, you want me to come down?!' I ask, trying to hide my desperation. J has been feeding my habit, I live an hour away from him and he lives 20 minutes from the cop spot. He has no car, but I do, and he's been generously helping me as long as I take him to the spot.

'Yeah dude, when can you be here?! I got paid, I'm so fucking sick!' He says.
'I'm leaving now, ill be there in an hour'.
'Hurry dude!'

I hang up. Today's a good day, I have enough gas to get down there, and I'm really not thinking about making it home. It wouldn't be the first time I'd have to scheme for gas money or sleep in my car. Nothing out of the ordinary in the life of a junkie.
I grab my keys and run to my car. The pain is slowly getting worse, my calves burn as I make a dash for the car. My mom comes home in a half hour and I'm doing my best to avoid her. I'm wearing the same jeans and long sleeve shirt as yesterday and the day before that, even though it's the middle of summer. I try to tell myself I'm not that bad, but the sickness says otherwise.

I sit in the driver's seat and take off. I hit 98 on the straightaway from my house and hope that I don't pass a cop. I have two clean rigs, my cottons, and a couple bottles of water, ready to go.

The hour long drive kills me, I'm by myself, listening to the same music on the radio, smoking half a pack of cigarettes and getting stuck behind every fucking speed limit driving, law abiding citizen on the road. It seems like I'm driving on a conveyor belt, not going anywhere.

Finally the exit is in sight, and I floor it, passing every car on the highway to make it there. I wait at the u turn, make a couple lefts and call J. He's already outside his house waiting. He runs to my car, just as sweaty and disgusting as me.

He gets in, and I drive before he even closes the door. 'Hey man how's it going?' I smell the liquor on his breath. We've been friends for years, and he's always been an alcoholic.
'Its going. How much?' I ask.
'I'm getting a bundle, I'll throw you 5 and some gas to get home ight?'
I'm thrilled he's this generous.
'Dude I can't thank u enough, that means the world to me'.
'No problem, call R'.

Out of my selection of drug dealers in my phone, we've been going through R since before we started doing dope. There's Junior, who is a bitter old man and usually puts up a fight before you get anything, S is my reliable source, but his dope isn't all that good, and then there's R. He's a middleman, but he'll never rob you, and you'll always get good dope. The downside is he takes 2 for himself every time. R is an old black guy, and he's been watching out for me for a long time. I find myself calling him Uncle R for all the things he did for me. I call him, and tell him how much we need, and he tells me he's got it on him this time. Perfect.

We make our way down to the hood, cracking jokes and trying to forget we're sick. The ride seems like forever. Down the highway for 10 minutes, make two lefts and we're there. Although it was only 20 minutes, we're agitated and sick. I like listening to rap to take my mind off of the feeling, but J likes to listen to Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd when we're in the hood to psych himself up. It's killing me.

We see R outside the regular spot and J climbs into the back seat. R gets in and comments on my gas gauge as usual, and tells me to drive. 'Bro, when you gonna put some fuckin gas in your car? Make a right. I mean, this motherfucker can't run off air' he says in his raspy voice.
'I know man, but I'm sick. Ill deal with it later. We got $75'.
'Okay, I'm taking two'.

He hands me the dope, I hand him the money. We're on the backstreets of a nasty neighborhood, and there usually aren't cops in this area.
'Let me out right here'
I pull to the curb and he gets out.
'Hide that shit bro, call me if you need me'.
'Alright be safe, good looks' I answer.
J hops back in the front seat 'Go go go!' He says.
I pull off, making a few turns to get back on the main road.

I don't understand why people say the sickness subsides a little bit when they have dope. For me it gets worse. I'm anxious to get to our favorite place to shoot, the Dunkin Donuts down the road from the spot. I'm freaking out, hoping a cop doesn't pull us over. Two white kids in the hood doesn't look good at all. The 5 minute ride down the road to dunkin seems like the longest out of all the trips I made so far. When I pull into a parking spot, J chooses to do his in the car. I don't even care, I'm so sick. I hand him the dope, and a rig, a cotton, and a water bottle. He hands me my 5, and I grab my supplies and my USB cable and head in dunkin.

To avoid raising suspicion, I politely ask to use the bathroom, to which they say yes, and point to where it is. They more than likely know what I'm doing, as I'm there every fucking day asking to use their bathroom and looking like a fragile old man. I go in the bathroom and double check to see that the doors locked. I uncap my syringe and fill it up with water and cap it, placing it on the back of the toilet, using it as a table. I sit backwards on the toilet, placing all my supplies on my tabletop. I dry off the bottle cap and take two bags of powdered dope out of my 5. The bags are a wax paper envelope with a stamp on it, labeling the brand. Escobar. It's a red stamp of Pablo Escobar, so I know its good. I rip it open, flick it to get the powder to the bottom, and tear it close to the bottom and dump my bags into the cap. I squirt my water into the cap, and pull out the plunger, mixing the solution as quick as I can. Its a dark brown, but not too dark, it's perfect. I drop the cotton in and suck up the solution in my needle, and flick out the bubbles. My hands are shaking, knowing it's almost over. I roll up my sleeve, and wrap my USB cord around my right arm. My veins are fucked, but one of them seems to be showing. I poke the needle in, and draw back. Nothing. Shit. I move the needle around, then try again. Nothing. 2 More times, nothing. I'm panicking, I've been in here almost ten minutes, what if a cop shows up?

I try again, I pull back and a beautiful plume of red surges into the spike. Finally. I push down halfway, and draw back a little to make sure I'm still in the vein. I'm good, so I plunge it all the way, I pull it out, and rinse out my needle, and start packing up, waiting. I feel it a little, maybe a little more, then it blooms from inside out. Relief, success, the rush, the high. It takes over, from the inside of my torso, spreading throughout my body, filling my head with bliss. I don't even know where I am for a second, I lean against the wall as I succumb to the opiate, free from worry, panic, anxiety, worthlessness. I open my eyes and look in the mirror, I giggle although I look like hell.

I walk out of the bathroom, a new man. I make my way to the car to see J nodding out, and I hide our supplies in the trunk.
'Yo this shit is good' he says.

We giggle as we nod out, smoking cigarettes, and waking up when it burns us, and I begin the drive back to his house, glowing with the heroin in my body. I'll make it home tonight. How am I going to make it back down here tomorrow? Don't know. Will my mom kick me out tonight? Will I get pulled over and arrested? Will I stay awake on the highway? I don't know and don't care. In this moment, I want to be nowhere but here. My life is in shambles, but as addicts, we make believe the high is worth it.

I've been sober for about 2 months and it's still difficult to forget the feeling. The struggle almost seemed fun, but the consequences of heroin are never worth it.

[Erowid Note: Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]

Exp Year: 2012ExpID: 104601
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: 19 
Published: Sep 24, 2022Views: 1,139
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Heroin (27) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Addiction & Habituation (10), General (1)

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